


The Honeymoon

by desperationandgin



Series: Market Price (The Companion Pieces) [12]
Category: Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/desperationandgin/pseuds/desperationandgin
Summary: Jamie and Claire's honeymoon. Need I say more?
Relationships: Claire Beauchamp/Jamie Fraser
Series: Market Price (The Companion Pieces) [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1289507
Comments: 64
Kudos: 191





	The Honeymoon

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! Recently, Market Price had its one year anniversary, and I couldn't be more honored that so many of you have told me this is your go-to happy fluffy place. So, in the face of the pandemic, I give you the fluffy Fraser's honeymoon. If you've never read any of Market Price, you certainly won't be lost, but I'd love it if you gave the rest of the series a shot ❤️

When she begins to wake, it’s with resistance. 

In no way does her dream-self want to give up Jamie’s red curls bobbing between her thighs as he _thoroughly_ enjoys himself, but Claire can’t stop the pull of wakefulness. A deep sigh of unfulfilled want rises from her belly, evolving into a quiet gasp of surprise as flames ignite, her body being moved gently until she’s flat on her back. Jamie pushes her legs apart by one knee, and she’s _awake_.

Her husband of forty-eight hours is buried between her legs, and the first thing she does is let out one note of a laugh that dissolves into a moan as both of her hands move to the top of his head. Somehow, his hair has never felt softer, like a collection of curled feathers. His tongue on her and inside of her makes her feel electric as his fingers press indents to her hips that won’t _quite_ leave bruises. He’s holding on for dear life, and she’s giving him every reason to.

Pleasure begins to build, making her back arch up, up, _up_ , until only her shoulder blades are resting on the bed. Jamie moves with her, more determined than he’s ever been, and she thanks God for it. The precipice suddenly feels _too_ close, the inevitable drop _too far down_ , and Claire scrambles to grasp at him, to both pull away and push him closer. She feels his growl of perseverance as a vibration in her body, and her hands grip his hair, grabbing twin fistfuls.

Jamie’s lips form a hollow of sensation, and Claire shatters, aware of nothing save for the persistent tongue eagerly lapping her up. It takes her brain a moment to realize he isn’t stopping, and when she falls again, he’s there to gently guide her down.

Time fades away, and her body seems to melt into nothing. His kisses falling against her stomach bring her back to consciousness, and she stretches languidly. She can still feel the pleasure in every limb of her body, and when she rolls onto her side, she opens her eyes to see Jamie. Her heart, having just caught back up, stutters for a moment at the sight of him. His hair looks as though a small tornado blew through it, and his face is bright red, but it’s his eyes - so blue she could soar into them - that break her wide open. 

They reach for one another at the same time, instinctively, and her head tucks against his neck, her leg moving over his hip as he guides himself into her.

“When you look at me,” she whispers, one hand laying flat along his cheek, “I can see everything, Jamie.”

Keeping his gaze on hers, he raises his hand to cover the one against his face. “Tell me what ye see, Sassenach,” he requests, voice low as he begins to move in her slowly.

She can’t break his stare, pouring her heart into his as she speaks. “It’s always been _us_.”

Their souls have known one another for an infinite amount of time, and Jamie turns his head to kiss her palm, breathing heavily against it for a moment. “You are mine, _mo nighean donn_ ,” he gasps, then gathers her as close as he can while still moving. “Mine, now and forever.”

Claire wants to somehow meld with him, to feel every part of him become a part of her, and as her pleasure breaks for a third time, she feels him spill into her, his quiet gasp of release an utterance of her name, whispered as an offering of thanks to the Almighty.

In the quiet after, they lay wrapped around one another, her head tucked under his chin. His heartbeat, steady and sure, causes her to drift until his voice quietly rouses her as his body shifts away from her.

“I’ll return for ye,” he promises, and she protests with a grab at his backside when he vacates the bed.

Turning to watch him pad naked into the bathroom, she hears the suite’s large shower turn on, and she smiles softly at his thoughtfulness. When he returns, he holds out a hand to her and she takes it, standing and letting him pull her into a kiss that turns into him lifting her so that her legs can wrap around his hips. By the time they make it back to the bathroom, he’s having his way with her against the wall, the fingers of one hand building her up until her desperate cry of release drowns out the sound of the running water. Only afterwards do they begin the job of getting clean.

The shower is tame, at least to start. Neither of them particularly wants to wind up with an injury, though that doesn’t stop Jamie from _very thoroughly_ washing her body. By the time he’s crouching in front of her, it’s as if his mouth has a mind of its own. There’s no effort required on her part with her back against the wall and Jamie holding her securely, so she gives in on the assumption she _probably_ won’t break a hip.

This time when she comes, it’s with a quiet sigh of his name, head bowing as if in deep prayer. She’s murmuring quietly, and he has to stand again to hear her over the water, his arms wrapping around her.

“I love you,” she whispers. “I love you. I _love_ you.”

When he tilts her chin up so that she can look at him, the glaze of tears in her eyes causes his own Pavlovian response to her emotion, and he takes her hands in his, cradling them against his chest.

“I love _you_ , my own. My _wife_. I love ye so much I could burst wi’ it,” he says quietly. They each let their own happy tears fall, mingling with the water in the shower. Once he’s just as clean as she is, they step out, toweling off only to fall damply back into bed.

“What time is it?” she asks, stretching languidly against him. 

Reaching for his phone, he has to smile at the lock screen photo ( _Claire with her mouth wide open and her eyes closed in a laugh he can still hear_ ). “Quarter to noon,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms back around her.

She hums and burrows against him, breathing in the clean, soapy scent of her husband. “I’m ravenous.”

Jamie growls against her neck before ducking lower to press a kiss between her breasts. “Mhmm. So am I.”

Feeling his grin on her skin, Claire tugs at his hair until he’s looking at her.

“Ye meant food,” he says sheepishly.

Laughing, she nods after stealing a kiss of adoration from his lips. “ _Yes_ , your wife could do with some real food. There’s most likely something within walking distance.”

He makes a disgruntled noise in the back of his throat. “That means putting on clothes.”

Claire snorts. “Well. We have to at some point. If you want to _see_ any of Greece, I mean.”

“Not yet. Unless ye’re starvin’,” he adds.

But she’s so charmed by him that she shakes her head with a soft smile. “Not yet,” she agrees.

For a while, they drift together, until Claire reaches out to drag her fingers lightly along his hip. “What are you thinking of, right now?” she asks quietly.

“How worth it t’would be, to get up and go to the beach. I want to see ye in the new bikini.”

Her laugh is loud and rousing, more awake now as she rises on an elbow to look down at him. “I didn’t think you paid attention to what I wore,” she teases.

“Aye, I do, when it’s itty and bitty…”

“Not yellow-polka-dot, though,” she interrupts with a bright grin.

“Oh, I saw. Bright red. Verra bawdy and bold,” he says, hands rising to cover her breasts, unable to resist.

“I thought you _liked_ me bawdy and bold.”

Jamie grunts, evidence of what he thinks about her in a red bikini growing against her thigh. “Wouldna have ye any other way,” he agrees.

“I could be bawdier, maybe,” she suggests, shifting so that she can press a soft kiss to his chest, then one lower, down his abdomen.

Swallowing in anticipation, he reaches out, tugging at a curl. “I’m no’ going to stop ye in yer efforts,” he promises, then groans as her lips press a kiss to the tip of his cock.

“So, you’re interested, is what you’re saying?” she teases, dragging her tongue up the length of him.

She’s made it so that all thought ceases immediately, and there’s finally a delayed _aye_ of agreement.

Claire knows what she does to him, that she reduces him to a single brain cell and one _single_ want. She knows she can do it from across a crowded room with a simple look. As she pleasures him, she takes her own, a hand snaking between her thighs. As the sounds in the room fade to white noise, she feels his head rise and knows the moment he realizes she’s touching herself.

He turns stone hard and she breaks just before him, pulling her mouth away as her hands finish both of them. She closes her eyes for a moment, each of them panting before forcing herself up to reach the tissues on the nightstand. Mess cleaned, she drapes herself across him and sighs contentedly. 

“Now can we go and get food?”

“Aye,” he chuckles, gathering her close to kiss her lips. “Aye, we can go.”

* * *

Two servings of _souvlaki_ and _loukoumades_ later, they walk aimlessly, avoiding most of the larger tourist traps thanks to her fuzzy memory of a trip taken when she was twenty-two.

“And what were ye doin’ in Greece at twenty-two?” Jamie asks, eyebrows raised.

“Kissing cute local boys, mostly,” Claire replies casually.

“Trying to relive the glory days of yer youth?”

“Why, are you interested?”

He pulls her into a kiss right there on the street, tasting honey and cinnamon on her lips. By the time he breaks it, she’s grinning.

“Aye, verra interested, ye could say.”

They laugh, holding hands as they walk leisurely throughout the afternoon, not making it to the beach, but buying random trinkets and postcards; small things to remember their time spent mostly making love. They stumble into a restaurant hidden away in an alcove just before the sun has a chance to set, winding their way through the main dining room and toward open-air seating. Dinner is spent on a patio roof, drinking wine and eating lamb, and during a dessert of white chocolate and berries, she brings the conversation around to their future plans.

“I’ve been thinking about our flat.”

He swipes at a bit of rogue chocolate on the plate with one finger, licking it clean. “Aye? What about it?”

“I think it’s only a two-bedroom and we need more space. Unless you’ve decided we only need the one child.”

Jamie grunts. “I see yer point. And it would be better to have the luxury of time to find a place to live.”

“A place we pick together,” Claire points out, smiling as his face softens.

“A house, ye reckon?” he asks, a slow idea forming as he tries to suss out what she’d like.

“Something close to Lallybroch for the farm. I don’t know what we’ll find, but-”

“I could build ye one, Sassenach.”

Claire’s taken by surprise, and she pauses with her spoon halfway to her mouth. “What?”

“I could draw up the plans, hire home builders, but aye. And I could do it on the land we already own,” he decides, seeing it in his mind’s eye.

“How big of a house?” she asks curiously, ignoring the rest of the dessert completely now.

“To fit six weans-”

“Six! That’s up from four.”

“To fit four to six weans,” he continues, undeterred, “We’ll need at least six bedrooms, I reckon.”

Claire considers this. “Ours, of course. And five additional bedrooms to figure out the rest. I suppose it’s a good plan.”

“And I dinna ken where we can find all of that, plus plenty of bathrooms, all wi’ in Broch Mordha.”

He has a point, and she looks out over their view, at the way the sun is setting and the birds are flying in Vs toward home. Looking back at him, she reaches across the table for his hand, her thumb moving over the gold of his wedding band.

“My husband is going to build me a house. Is that what I can tell all of my friends at the hospital?”

Jamie’s smile is slow and makes her stomach tighten into a knot of anticipation without his uttering a single word.

“Ye can tell anyone ye’d like. The decision is made, Sassenach.”

Just like that, she’s getting a house. “How do you do that?”

He finishes the wine in his glass, looking at her curiously, a quiet _hmm_? indicating he wants to know what she means.

“Make me feel secure. As though there isn’t anything I need to worry over on my own.”

“Because there _isna_ anything ye need to think on by yerself,” Jamie responds right away. “We’ll do this together, Sassenach. I’m no’ saying the house will be done tomorrow or even this year, but once we’ve returned to Scotland, we’ll go look at the land, decide where to build.” There’s plenty of space thanks to Brian Fraser’s thoughtful planning decades ago.

“You’ve made me feel like this from the beginning,” she insists, not meaning only since their vows. “I thought I’d ruined everything on our first date, that I’d offended you by burning supper. But you didn’t miss a beat.”

“And now, one ruined meal, a dozen or so - what I’m _assuming_ were perfect - dates, and a thousand kisses later, here we are, Sassenach.”

He stands and reaches for her hand, and once she’s facing him, her arms wind their way around his neck.

“Here we are. On a rooftop in Greece on our honeymoon. Not a burnt morsel of food in sight.”

They both laugh softly, foreheads meeting. “Ye’re getting better.”

“Because you’re teaching me.”

He brings his hands to her hips and smiles. “I’ll always teach ye. Anything ye want tae ken.” For a moment he doesn’t move, and it’s just the two of them in the sunset, swaying to the sound of the ocean in the distance. 

When he speaks, it’s so soft that she, just as quietly, asks him to repeat himself.

“ _Sorcha_.”

She raises her head just enough so that the tip of her nose can graze his. “What does that mean?”

“‘Tis yer name in the _Gàidhlig_ ,” he begins, pulling back enough to be able to cradle her face. “But also ‘ _light_.’” He pauses to find his words before speaking once more.

“Ye’re my light, Sassenach. A beacon to call me home.”

Claire’s eyes are wide as she fights the urge to cry, losing the battle as he reverently draws her hand around to kiss her wedding ring.

“There are days I believe ye were only shining for me.”

She wonders how he does it; how he can undo her with words. As a tear slides over the apple of her cheek, she speaks quietly, leaning in so that the words can fall softly across his lips.

“That’s because I was. I am.”

They hold one another as the sky fades into gentle purples and pinks, and the world is all around them, suddenly new with possibility.

**Author's Note:**

> Take care of yourselves, and each other 💙


End file.
